Gone were the days of the Wall Street Crash and the Great Depression; so long to the ‘hunger dances’. You’ll have heard of those, surely? They were contests in which the unhappy participants would dance day and night, never stopping, on a dancefloor watched over by judges. The final pair to remain dancing would win a hundred dollars, or a few sacks of rice. But that was during the Depression, the Dust Bowl days. Two decades later, times had changed, especially in Coney Island! Twenty years ago they danced until they dropped in the hopes of winning a hundred bucks. Ten years ago, Americans were landing on the shores of Normandy. Today, in 1953, all they wanted was a kiss. Here, in Coney Island, the contest for the longest kiss was in motion. This was another type of marathon altogether.
Betty and Michael felt certain they could win. Betty was riding high after making the finals; the pair had just won their semi-final with the Coney Island crowd looking on in wonder. Now the eight finalists were getting ready, catching their breath and gathering their strength. It was time for the final to begin! Only the top contenders for the longest kiss remained. All the finalists knew the rules of this marathon. The participants had to be of legal age in the country in which the event was taking place. The kiss had to be continuous, and the couple was immediately disqualified as soon as their lips parted. They must also remain awake and upright throughout the contest, and could not lean on each other using a pillow, a cushion or another person. Breaks were not permitted for any reason. Adult diapers were not allowed. And of course, the participants had to remain present at all times.
The judge had just set up a rope line to keep the spectators in place as they pressed forward. He looked at his watch, giving the eight finalists another few minutes to prepare. It was time to give each couple their numbers. Betty and Michael’s number was 3. It was a lucky number, for in truth they were not only a couple, but a family of three. They had a newborn, Julian, named after his grandfather. To him they would bring home a memory of this moment, captured by the contest photographer. Betty took the chance to drink a glass of water. Michael tightened his belt. Soon they would be in the ring, cheered on by strangers. There was also an elderly couple from Minnesota. They were farmers, enjoying a summer trip to Coney Island. They squeezed each other’s hands, ready to take home first prize: a trip to Los Angeles. The farmers were already dreaming of the palm trees along Rodeo Drive. Betty and Michael, meanwhile, longed for the sandy beaches. The Pacific was warm in summer, and cold in winter. The judge started the clock.
Michael’s lips brushed gently over Betty’s, until they covered all her lower lip. Now, they waited…until fatigue consumed them, perhaps until sun-up. Deep in her heart Betty heard her infant crying; in her belly she heard Julian laughing. He was so handsome, just like his father. It had taken Betty and Michael some time to bring little Julian into the world. Such was life. When Julian was born, Michael had wept, his love for Betty now set in stone. All those moments and memories kept the couple breathing during their marathon kiss. Betty’s lips had not moved for two hours now. The crowd applauded, and the judge announced that another half-hour had passed. Emotions were high. The crowd were spellbound by this oddest of endurance races. The finalists were taking the marathon very seriously.
This was a contest of energy, and hope, and the heroism of the common man. The judge announced that they had passed the five-hour mark. A clamor rose up when the farmers’ lips parted. They had been disqualified; they were out. “Couple seven, please move to the side.” The farmers took their leave. Betty slipped her hand into Michael’s. She needed to find the strength to hold on. Three couples remained.
In the early morning, the sun rose over Coney Island. Night was falling on Los Angeles. In California, it was the witching hour. Betty and Michael had won the kissing contest. The few spectators who remained were stunned. The marathon had continued through the night. The judge had even given them chairs. In the early morning, the gulls cried high over Coney Island. Waves crashed on the sand and receded in quiet remorse. Betty dreamt only of falling asleep on the sand. Michael dreamed of holding his boy. The night had been long.
Alan Alfredo Geday